BROKEN ANGEL: Devil's Route MC

by Nicole Fox

  “They tell me that you are a big biker,” he said as he shut the folder containing the sealed bid. “Real American bad ass,” he added sarcastically, “who is on the outs with his Fire and Brimstone buddies. I kid, of course. You have solid reputation, Mr. Baldwin, very positive.” He paused, made a face, and didn't continue further.

  “So, that a problem or something?” I asked, a little confused by the way he'd phrased things.

  “My problem, as you say, is that you seem a little too positive, Mr. Baldwin. A little too nice, from what I hear. I need ruthless men, men willing to do whatever it takes. I don't believe you have that.”

  “That a no, then?” I grumbled.

  He shook his head slowly, baring his teeth at me as he smiled. “I'm sorry, Mr. Baldwin, but I don't think any alliance would work out for my benefit.”

  Frustrated, I shook my head. “Fine,” I replied, reaching across to take back the closed folder. “That's how you feel, guess we'll be leaving.”

  He slapped his hand down on the manila folder, pinning it to the picnic table. “Not so fast, though,” he said, his attention turning to Jace. “Don't I know you from somewhere?”

  Motherfucker.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Koen

  Volkov's eyes widened just a fraction of an inch as he asked Jace his question.

  She feigned ignorance. “Who? Me?” she asked, laughing nervously.

  A spike of fear immediately shot through me. I hadn't even thought about whether or not someone as far up the food chain as Aleksey would ever recognize Jace, just another girl working on her back. “This is over,” I said, my immediate focus on getting both my woman and myself out of there in one piece.

  “Yes,” Aleksey said, standing up from the picnic table abruptly and stepping clear of the bench. “I believe it is. Have a good life, Mr. Baldwin.” And, with that, he turned and headed through the children to the six Thunder Riders who were assembled just a short distance away, glaring and pacing as they watched their boss approach them.

  This didn't look good. Not at all. “We gotta go,” I said, grabbing Jace by the forearm and jumping up from the bench with the folder tightly gripped.

  “What the fuck?” Jace squalled as I bodily ripped her from the table and dragged her tiny frame behind me, her heels sliding through the grass as she tried to find purchase. “Koen! You're hurting me!”

  “Move, Jace!” I said, my voice low and serious. I glanced back over my shoulder as she finally found her footing and started tramping through the grass beside me.

  Aleksey had finally met with his Thunder Rider security. He looked back at us, pointedly, then turned back to his security detail and gave a sharp nod. Three of the Riders crossed after us. Not running, just walking quickly as we headed back to my bike, and away from innocent bystanders.

  I wanted to head straight for Fed and Agent McKesson, who were parked with the rest of their team right around the corner, but heading that way would take me through a long expanse of empty park. At least, this direction led to my bike, and a reasonable getaway. I could meet up with the feds later, if we made it out of this without any new holes to breathe through.

  “Three of them are following us.” I said to Jace under my breath. “When I tell you to run, I want you to run. Got it?”

  Still rubbing her arm where I'd grabbed her, she simply nodded. She reached down, grabbed my hand tightly and squeezed harder. She was shaking like a leaf, and I couldn't blame her. Not one bit.

  We broke through a line of trees, and my bike was finally within sight. I glanced back in time to see the Thunder Riders pick up their pace to close the gap. They were three abreast, maybe ten feet apart, and all ugly as sin. Big bruisers with necks tattoos, swastikas on their upper arms, and grimy oil-covered jeans.

  Up ahead, though, I could see a New Orleans transit cop making his rounds. Sure, he wasn't Agent McKesson and her feds or anything, but he was at least a law enforcement officer.

  “Run,” I yelled, pulling Jace along with me as I took off a breakneck speed. I glanced back over my shoulder as we sprinted off, saw the Rider on my right reaching inside his vest.

  The three of them took off after us, with the one on the right dropping his hand from inside his vest so he could catch up. Beside me, Jace huffed and puffed, her long legs still having to work extra hard to keep up with me.

  “Stop!” one of the Thunder Riders yelled. Whether it was at me, or the guy who'd gone to draw his gun earlier, I had no idea.

  I looked back, my heart thumping so hard I worried it might rip out of my chest and just keep on running if I stumbled.

  The guy on the right had drawn his pistol, stopped, and leveled the barrel at us. He had to have been more than thirty or forty feet away, but if he was a good enough shot that wouldn't matter much.

  There's two rules a man should live by. Don't bring a knife to a gunfight. And, don't stay at a gunfight when you don't have a gun.

  “Get down!” I yelled, pulling Jace to the ground with me as the loud pops of gunfire split the city air. The wire I wore beneath my shirt had been uncomfortable before, but now it was digging into my chest as I sandwiched it between my chest and the park.

  I found a distant part of my brain wondering if the FBI would send me a bill if I broke it, just as I heard the bullets whiz over us like angry hornets, spinning through the air as they continued onto into the city street ahead. We buried ourselves in the grass, hands cradling the backs of our heads.

  Another pop of a gun firing, another bullet flying by. This time, it kicked up grass just to my left, barely missing me by a couple feet.

  That was about enough for me! If they got any closer, I was going to have to risk running, which was never a good idea. It just gave a shooter time to line up his shot.

  I glanced up, saw the cop car stop with its lights on. A police officer was already out and came running from the passenger side, sprinting towards us. The patrol car took off, its lights still going, as it headed up to the other side of the park.

  Beside me, Jace stirred in the grass, rolling over on her side. “Shit,” she groaned, her voice breathless.

  Panic flashed inside me. “You hit?” I asked, my voice coming out more frantic than I'd intended.

  “No,” she gasped out. “Wind knocked from me, that's all.”

  I rolled over a little and looked back as the cop came running up to us, his walkie-talkie chattering like the whole department was on the horn.

  “In pursuit,” he yelled into the crackle, pop, hiss as he gripped the radio on his shoulder. He went running past us, his boots tramping through the perfectly manicured grass. “Stay down,” he yelled at us as he headed into the park after the three Thunder Riders.

  I looked at Jace as soon as the cop passed us, and she nodded immediately. We didn't have any intention of sticking around. Together, we climbed to our feet and went off at a run, angling towards my bike.

  The moments trudged by as we ran to it, my head pounding, my feet slapping the ground. Every step we took was one that brought us closer to safety and took us farther from danger. We hopped on the back of my chopper and I started her up. We took off down the street, headed for our rendezvous point with Fed, McKesson, and the rest.

  “That,” Jace shouted right into my ear, over the roar of my bike, “is the only time I've ever been glad to see a cop!”

  I grinned back at her, my adrenaline finally wearing off. We'd made it out alive. But, the real question was whether or not we'd gotten enough to convict Aleksey Volkov.

  # # #

  Jace

  “None of it?” Koen, seated beside me, asked with a look of total dejection on his face. “You've got to be fucking shitting me! I ruined my fucking life over this!”

  I silently shook my head, my fists resting on my thighs, balled up tighter than a whore's pussy on her first day. I couldn't believe this. All that trouble, all that effort, Koen ruining his life, me not taking my shot.

  We were sitting in t
he back of the FBI's surveillance van, surrounded by radio transmitters and blinking screens. I might have even thought it was cool, like we were in an episode of CSI: New Orleans or some shit, but I was too damned pissed to think straight.

  I just kept shaking my head, my teeth grinding away.

  “There's just not enough there,” Claire explained. “We send that to a judge for a warrant to search his holdings, or even to get just a wiretap, we'll get laughed right out. The US Attorney's office won't take less than a complete admission by Volkov. You knew that going in, Koen.”

  “Goddammit!” Koen shouted, pounding his fist on the desk he was pulled up next to. He bit his knuckle violently, his eyes wild.

  Koen had thrown his life away for me. But I'd thrown away the last chance I had to kill Aleksey.

  Children around, or not, I could have just taken the shot. The Russian's motherfucker's bodyguards couldn't have done shit to stop me. It would have just been pop-pop, you're dead. I looked up at Agent McKesson and caught her staring at me. “What else can we do?” I asked. “I want this fucker, Claire.”

  “We?” she asked, shaking her head before leaning forward. “We don't do anything, Jace. You guys are out of it, at least for a while. The other agents and I will see what else can be done, though.”

  And, with that, we were out of the loop. Koen and I rode home together, our bodies as tense as our minds. If I only hadn't stuck my nose into this, we would have been fine. If Fed had gone along instead of me, Aleksey wouldn't have been the wiser in any way.

  This was my fault.

  I'd blown my chance.

  We were out of it for good.

  At least, though, I got to keep Koen. That by itself was almost enough to soothe any wound.

  Koen's phone buzzed as we pulled into the garage. He pulled the phone out, showed me that it was Claire McKesson calling already, then answered. “Yeah?”

  “What?” Koen asked, his voice sounding confused and distant. “Why? Why would they do that?”

  Koen paused, listening to whatever it was she had to say.

  “Alright,” he said, his face downcast. “We're on our way.”

  “What's going on?” I asked as he turned the bike right back around and he went to start it up. “What's wrong, babe?”

  “Grandpa Xaiver,” he said. “He's dead, baby.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Koen

  I ran a hand down my face, pulling at my cheeks and dragging out my lower lip. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried, the last time I'd felt this much anguish and pain. My last living family member was gone, leaving a hole in my guts like I'd never imagined.

  Gator had died just a few years ago. But, well, Gator had been an asshole. He wasn't half the father to me that Grandpa was. I don't even think I cried over Gator, to be honest. Maybe I did, once, when I was alone. But it was just a few tears shed after a bottle of Jack had worn my defenses down.

  But now, as I stared down at the demolished face of my grandpa and simply nodded to identify him for the FBI, I realized what Jace had been feeling for all these weeks.

  I turned around and walked back outside to rejoin Jace.

  “You okay?” Jace asked as I came up to her. She threw her arms around my neck, hugging her small body against mine. It was a small comfort but, as I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer, it was better than I deserved.

  After all, I'd just gotten my Grandpa killed. I felt the tears begin to build up behind my eyes, and blinked them away. I couldn't let anyone see me like this, even if it was over Xavier.

  Business-like flats clicked on the sidewalk behind me. “Whoever killed him left a note,” Agent McKesson said to my back. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you're a dead man.”

  I released Jace and turned around to face the FBI agent. “Can't you bring this fucker in on killing one of your own?” I asked. “I mean, I've seen guys get brought down for way less than this shit.”

  “Those guys weren't connected the way Aleksey is, Koen,” Claire said, taking a step closer. “This is the biggest of the baddest, right here. We never told you this was going to be easy. Your grandfather knew it, too.”

  “But,” Jace started as her hand reached down to find mine, “you've gotta be able to do something, Claire. I mean, shootings in parks, killing retired agents. What's next for this guy?”

  The agent shook her head, her lips pursed tight, her brow furrowed. “We're working on it. Best we can do right now is put you two in Witpro, like we discussed. Clearly, this guy knows who you are, and he thinks you've got dirt on him.”

  “Fine,” Jace said, squeezing my hand tightly. “If we've gotta go into hiding, I'm fine with that. We'll do whatever you need us to do.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing her hand right back as I nodded at the agent. “Whatever you need, Claire.”

  “About that . . .” Claire began, then trailed off. “My biggest concern right now is that you two are going to stick out if you're together, no matter where we put you. And, believe me, Volkov's got people all over.”

  She'd said “together” with emphasis. I started shaking my head already, not liking where this was going.

  “Together?” Jace asked, practically reading my mind. “What the fuck, Claire?”

  “If I put you both under, they're going to find you no problem. We can't hide you both, you're too obvious.”

  “Claire,” I said, “we were supposed to go together. That was the only way we agreed to this.”

  “Look,” the FBI agent said, her voice harsh as she dropped all the decorum I'd begun to expect, “this guy just sicced a biker gang on you in a public park, then killed your grandfather when they didn't get the job done. Do you really fucking think he's just going to let this blow over, like he'll fucking forget about you or some shit?”

  “No,” I started, thinking about what I would have done in his shoes. I was going to say something else, but she was already continuing on, cutting me off.

  “Men like this keep out of prison by tying up loose ends, Koen. And you two are some of the loosest goddamned ends I've ever seen.” Claire pointed back behind her at my grandpa's now empty house. “Now, do you want your girlfriend to end up like Xavier, but at the bottom of a bayou with her head cut off and her hands missing? Or do you want to keep your asses alive by doing what I say?”

  I took a deep breath and looked down at Jace for her input. I squeezed her hand and she looked up at me, our eyes locking.

  I thought I could see the hurt in her eyes, the pain at how fucked up this all was. We were supposed to be doing this so we could be together, away from our dark pasts. But where had that gotten us? Now, we were just running from it, but in different directions from one another.

  # # #

  Jace

  This was all just too much. First my mom, then having to run. Follow that with hooking, Tomlin dying. Now, after I'd turned away from killing Aleksey and run into the arms of Koen, this shit happened.

  I couldn't do it. I couldn't give him up, too. It was bad enough that I'd practically lost Benji already, and that we'd have to leave Fed behind when we ran.

  But, to run separate, that was just the icing on this shit-cake life was feeding me.

  “Come on,” Koen said, touching my face and squeezing my hand, “we've got to. I need you safe, and they think we'll be better off split up.”

  “Fuck 'em,” I replied, smiling as I shrugged a little, trying to keep up a brave front.

  Beneath that facade, though, my insides were crumbling like one of the old mausoleums outside New Orleans. All the death, all the mistakes we'd made. Death, at this point, would be an escape from the constant disappointments of life. I mean, what else did I have if Koen was taken from me, too?

  “I can't lose you, too,” he whispered. “Not you and Grandpa, both.”

  God, he really did love me. It took me a moment to let that sink in. He loved me, an ex-whore from bumfuck nowhere. And, now, he was getting taken aw
ay by Aleksey and the FBI, all because I showed up at the meet when I shouldn't have.

  Something inside me almost broke at that moment, I think. Some little piece of me that had been strong enough to hold out against the world all by itself. Because I'll be damned if I didn't love him right back, even if I couldn't get my mouth to shape the words.

  Despite not being able to speak them, I felt them in my chest. A warm, soft glow that seemed to fill me up from the inside. There was a soft, whispering voice in my heart that told me his living was what mattered. That I'd be able to live my life as long as I knew he was out there still stomping the earth.

  I smiled a little, wiped away a tear that threatened to run down my cheek. “Okay,” I choked out, my voice tight. I nodded again. “Okay, yeah. Let's do it.”